Breathe
by Cleopatra Antoinette
Summary: Neither Irma or Donatello had liked this stormy, miserable weather at first. But a lot of things had changed in recent days, and now both of them thought that it was most certainly their favorite kind of weather. Even if it made breathing a little difficult.


So this ficlet doesn't really have any particular plot or point to it, just sweet, simple smut between my two favorite Ninja Turtle characters, Irma and Donnie. This story fits into my Peaches, Puzzles and Problems universe and it also works on its own.

For those who aren't sure who Irma is, she was a good friend of the turtles in the original 1987 series and had a sort of thing with Donnie. She was adorable and I loved her, so she's the main character of my aforementioned story. But like I said, it works on its own and doesn't require reading any other stories. However, if you'd LIKE to read it... AND review it, I won't stop you.

I don't own TMNT or any characters therein.

* * *

**Breathe**

It was freezing outside. Absolutely frigid. The wind was howling like there was something horrid chasing after it. Rain was pounding down like a second Noah's Flood. Everyone was rushing around in desperate attempts to escape the deluge, and Irma was no different. Her pink-rimmed glasses were practically useless from the water droplets that streamed down the smooth glass and sat in fat splotches on the rims until she tilted her head too far to one side and they slid off. Her thick coat kept her skin dry for the moment, but she could practically feel the water it was absorbing touch her clothes. The day had started off so nicely, too. Bright sun, cool enough for a coat but warm enough for no hats. Yes, the day had begun perfectly. But now her hair hung matted in her face and her shoes squished as she walked from having stepped into one too many puddles.

_Only a little further_, she repeated over and over in her head. _Only a little further to your nice, warm, dry apartment and your shower and soft bed... _It was almost enough to make her want to run, but then she stumbled and nearly fell head-long into a puddle, effectively ensuring the brunette's eyes cautiously watching where she would next place her feet. Some of the puddles looked deep enough to drown in, and she felt a shudder pass through her at the thought. _Just breathe and walk_, she told herself firmly. _Breathe and walk_.

Irma finally arrived home a few minutes after that, and she tried to pretend she didn't notice the trail of water that dribbled off her clothes and hair onto the floor. She knew, as she trudged through the downstairs antique store and up the stairs that she'd have to clean it up tomorrow if she didn't want the dirty water to leave stains, but she couldn't bring herself to care about it just the same. Right then all she wanted was to get out of her wet clothes and uncomfortable, soggy shoes so she could curl up in her blankets while watching a movie.

Her fingers felt numb with cold as she fumbled for the key to her apartment in her purse and attempted to slide it into the lock. When she finally did this and let the door swing open, she stumbled inside with a groan of relief. Dropping her purse onto the side table, she reached down to pry off the soaked shoes, cursing softly under her breath as she did so. It should have been an easy task, but her fingers suddenly seemed too clumsy and the laces on her boots too slick to get a firm grip. The swearing gradually turned louder and more furious to the point where she didn't even notice the window in the living room slide open, or even the figure that crawled through it. But then again, the figure was a ninja.

"FUCK YOU, YOU GODAMN LACES FROM HELL!" Irma finally screamed, losing any semblance of sanity she had left. All she wanted was to get into her pajamas and sleep! Was that too much to ask? Was she being unreasonable? She was this close to grabbing a pair of scissors and hacking off the laces to the boots that had only that morning been "adorable", but then a large green hand reached out and grasped one of her hands just in time to prevent her from destroying her footwear. Irma jumped a little bit at the sudden contact, but upon realizing whose hand it was, turned and scowled at the owner of the offending appendage. "Dammit, Donnie, don't _do_ that! You know it freaks me out!" Snatching her hand out of his green one, the irritated woman directed her attention once more to her boots, grumbling under her breath as she did so.

Donatello watched her for some time, trying his level best to keep the grin off his face as he watched the human woman struggle to liberate her feet from the soggy shoes and socks. Leaning nonchalantly against the opposite wall, he waited for her frustration to run its course, knowing full well that when it did she would be too tired to fight against his help. He thought about trying to speak to her a couple of times, a simple 'Hello' or 'Can I help?' but he was certain this would be met with resistance, or even hostility. Irma wasn't overly prideful, but when she was upset she hated it when people offered to fix things for her. Even if whatever it was that needed fixing was what made her upset in the first place. No, the turtle thought to himself as he watched her, the best course of action would be to wait until she was done. Knowing Irma, it wouldn't take too much longer.

He was right. Within a minute, Irma snarled something unintelligible at the shoes and threw herself back against the wall, wallowing in her frustration and imagined incompetence. It was as she was sitting like that, slumped down in self-pity that Donnie moved in. He came to her side slowly, sinking to the ground until he was sitting beside her, and then leaned over to kiss her damp forehead. Irma's eyes met his briefly, affection and an unspoken apology reflected in them. He smiled at her to show there was no harm done, and then sat against the opposite wall so he could place her feet in his lap. Donatello untied the shoe laces carefully and in deliberate, unhurried movements, not bothering to hide his smile as he noticed her eyes follow his fingers as they moved gracefully. She had once sheepishly admitted to him that she felt clumsy and awkward when she compared herself to him. He had told her that she didn't need grace to be sexy and appealing to him, but he refrained from telling her that he thought her clumsiness amusing most of the time. And when she watched him, the envy would usually turn to admiration, and then to... something even better. He let his gaze meet hers, delighting in the blush that covered her cheeks as she realized he had caught her staring. Her eyes fell from his face back down to her hands, trying not to let herself give into the temptation to watch him. Donnie went back to her shoes.

Within moments, they were undone and he slid one hand up the calf of her leg, on the inside of her pants as the other gently pulled her right boot off. He frowned slightly as he felt how cold her flesh was against his palm and ran his thumb over her skin before moving it down to pull her wet sock off, setting both boot and sock aside. Moving to the left foot, he repeated the procedure, pulling off the shoe and sock with one hand while the other caressed the cool skin beneath the fabric of her jeans. When he was done with that, he stood up and reached out to pull her up with him in one smooth motion. When she was standing in front of him, he began to undo the buttons of her jacket, still saying nothing to her, concentrating on the task at hand. It was a lovely, thick coat, lined with brown faux fur on the inside and black fabric on the outside, but when he pushed it off her shoulders to lay in a heap on the floor, he saw that it hadn't been able to keep Irma's collar from getting soaked with freezing rainwater.

Irma's shirt wasn't buttoned down; he had to pull it off her to get the wet fabric cloth from chilling her. She was watching Donatello as he ran his hands down her sides to the hem of her shirt to slide his fingers underneath. The humanoid turtle appeared to be as calm and collected as he usually was. Irma, on the other hand, felt like her nerves were going haywire. His touch was always so gentle, especially when making love that she had begun to react to it even when he wasn't meaning to do anything to anything to turn her on. No was no different. She attributed it to the fact that they were new lovers and their initial chemistry showed no signs of cooling down any time soon. But as Donnie caught her biting her lip as his fingers moved over her stomach, she found herself not minding much.

The human leaned forward into him, pressing her lips against his in a wordless invitation. He was surprised at first, but was soon returning the kiss with controlled passion. They wrapped their arms around each other tightly for a minute or two, their kisses growing heated until Don pulled away to carefully remove Irma's glasses and set them on her kitchen counter, pulling Irma along with one arm around her waist. Once they were put out of harm's way, he turned his attention back to her, slipping his hands under her shirt and then letting it move upwards with his hands. Over her hips, her stomach, then purposely letting his hands wander over her breasts (with some pressure applied in that moment), he finally pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor, his hands then going behind her back to undo the bra she wore.

Irma responded by moving her hands along Donatello's neck to massage along the back of his head. Her lips were pressed against his collar bone and she grinned inwardly when he groaned as she began to lick and kiss and suck at the area between his collarbone and throat. He moved his hands to her breasts, the bra falling to the floor with her shirt, and squeezed them firmly as she gasped and lightly bit down on his neck, sending a small shudder through him. Grinning impishly, she ground her hips against his. Although his plastron got in the way of it being as effective as it would have been on a human male, it still created the desired effects as he growled in response and moved one hand away from her breasts to undo the buttons and zippers on her jeans, pulling them and her underwear down enough for him to slide his fingers between her legs to rub at the ultra-sensitive flesh around her entrance. She mewled in his ear as he moved his fingers, feeling her nails begin to dig into his neck as she sucked and kicked harder at the base of his throat. He groaned again, louder this time. Irma had learned early on that his neck and collar bone areas were the spots to work at to get him aroused. Since his shell covered most of his body, there were only so many things she could do to get him as worked up as he got her, but she worked those spots like a pro, easily managing to work him up in a manner of seconds if she so desired. But doing this only made him move his fingers against her faster, and she could feel her knees start to tremble as the pleasure started to flood her veins.

Moving his other hand away from her breast as well, Donatello pulled her jeans and underwear down her legs until they, too, were on the floor, leaving her naked in front of him. Gripping her hips firmly, he lifted her up and set her in the edge of the counter, easing between her legs as he did so. Irma gripped his shoulders tightly as he began to push into her, moaning as he began to fill her, stretching her walls as he carefully pushed his way inside her. Donatello had a death grip on her hips, resting his head against her shoulder, shivering when her inner walls squeezed him. Irma's hands went to the edge of his shell, nails digging into the surface as he withdrew slightly and then thrust into her again, letting her body adjust to his width and length.

He kept up the tiny thrusts until he was completely buried in her, filling her up and making sure that he was positioned against her favorite spot, just pressing against it until he noticed something.

"Irma," he said, pressing his forehead against hers, "breathe." His voice was strong, but she could tell it was harder for him to speak than he let on. She took a deep breath and then cried out as he withdrew and then thrusted back into her fully.

"Don!" His name hung in the air, an unspoken plea in a tone that only he ever heard. It was in those moments that she was most vulnerable and she opened up to him entirely, letting him take what he needed and trusting him enough to allow it. Donatello pressed his lips to hers in a fierce kiss, stealing away her breath even as she inhaled it into her lungs. He was her air at that moment, and she writhed against him as though she couldn't possibly get close enough to him. And then with a shudder he began to set his pace, hard and deep, pulling out fully before burying himself completely inside her.

Each thrust made her quiver as he moved against the center of her pleasure, making her feel as through every nerve of her body was on fire from the ecstasy he made her feel. In the back of her mind she could hear the sound of something raking across some hard object, and then she realized that it was the sound of her own fingernails against Donatello's shell as she dragged them unconsciously across the surface. She did this every time, and for some reason he loved it because he picked up the speed, making her arch against him, incomprehensible words passing through her lips as she begged and pleaded for more. He gave it all willingly, detaching himself from any semblance of rational thought as all his senses were overridden by _heat_ and _wet_ and _so damn tight!_ as she encouraged him with her body, almost sobbing with the buildup she was feeling.

How long they were like that, they couldn't say. Seconds, hours, minutes, months, they neither knew nor cared. All that mattered at that moment was each other, their bodies, and the words they desperately wanted to say but couldn't quite figure out how to string them through their mouths, so they settled for movement. All she knew was his length and hardness inside her, and how right it felt, like he was meant to fit within her, around her, beside her because he made her whole. All he knew was her channel squeezing him hard, her warmth and dampness welcoming every time he penetrated her, making him feel like her entire form wanted him to be with her always, and he wanted the same because she was completion.

She came only seconds before him, sobbing out his name with tears of rapture cascading down her cheeks. He fell over the edge right behind her, his arms wrapped around her form tightly as though he couldn't bear the thought of her moving.

They leaned against each other in the minutes afterwards, him still inside her, her arms around his shoulders despite being limp. They could hear each other's heartbeats and the sound of their breathing gradually calming down. Irma nuzzled Don's neck and he kissed her forehead.

"Hey, Donnie," she said, her voice carrying a grin.

He chuckled and then picked her up, his hands under her butt, and walked with her like that towards her bedroom. "Hello, Irma."

"Thanks for helping me warm up," she said, enjoying the feel of him moving inside her as he walked. "I probably would have been pissed for hours if you hadn't been around to help out."

"I aim to please." He walked into her bedroom and pulled back the covers on her bed just as she was yawning and he slid them both under the blankets, one arm moving from her butt to her waist, pulling out of her as he laid her down. They settled under the blankets, snuggling close to each other, the sound of the rain beating down on the windows filling their ears. "I think I like this weather," Don remarked.

Irma didn't stir from his arm. "I think it could grow on me, too. Y'know, given enough time."

He laughed again. "If circumstances were ideal?"

"Mm, something like that."

"So…" his fingers began to trail along her shoulder and arm. "What circumstances would those be, exactly?"

It was Irma's turn to laugh now. "Your sexy voice is terribly obvious, handsome."

"Maybe I mean it to." His voice dropped a few octaves to a comically deep pitch. "Maybe I'm going for the sexy, tortured soul with a secret passionate side kind of voice."

"Well then," Irma said as she slowly rolled on top of him, straddling his waist and looking down at him with an amused and hungry expression, "that would be a different story now, wouldn't it?"

And as Irma began to move her hips against his, making him hiss through his teeth, both of the lovers thought that it was most certainly their favorite kind of weather. Even if it made breathing a little difficult.

* * *

Well, my friends, we have reached the end of the tale. For now. I can't say that I know quite where this story came from, but I do know that it was pretty fun to write. It's definitely the smuttiest of any of the smut that I've written before. I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed putting it down, and also I hope that you guys don't find it off-putting to have childhood figures in such a bawdy and tawdry story. Although I do have to say that both of them seemed to like it. Loved it, I'd say. Judging by the looks on their faces I'd also venture out and say that they're hoping I'll do something else in this similar style in the future. But we shall see.

Anyway, if you did like the story, please review, and if you have constructive criticism put that in there, too. I appreciate people telling me what could be improved, or what could be made clearer. Although I do feel bound to say that I REALLY like it when people say that they loved it. But I leave that up to the digression of the gentle readers. Until next time!


End file.
